


Even For Dragons

by Cowboy_Sneep_Dip



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Character Study, Corrin learns that life sucks sometimes, Drama, Feelings, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Tiki and Say'ri adopt another depressed war orphan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 09:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowboy_Sneep_Dip/pseuds/Cowboy_Sneep_Dip
Summary: Lost and disillusioned following the conquest of Hoshido, Corrin stumbles through her life in a haze. Fed up with the politics and violence that once consumed her life, she embarks on a pilgrimage, seeking the divine dragon that may help her find her way again.





	Even For Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> hey i LOVE dragon characters and I really wanted to sort of dip into Corrin coming to terms with the fact that she is likely immortal. Plus I want to do a longer Tiki fic at some point so this was sort of a character study of her. 
> 
> Also they have wings because why would you make dragon shapeshifters and NOT give them wings come on intsys

It was raining again.

Thick droplets of water poured from the low-hanging clouds in droves, dripping from leaves, tracking their way down twisting vines and branches, and finally soaking into the soft earth beneath the Mila Tree, bound to be sucked up into the roots, to rejoin the cycle of life and death, fueling the trees continued growth through the long years of eternity.

Water dripped from the gutters adorning the rain-slicked roof of the temple, a steady dripping sound lost in the rush of wind and the squelch of boots in mud. A sudden, tumultuous gust swirled around the tree, driving the rain sideways for a moment, splashing the sides of the temple and flecking the stained-glass window with clear water. The leaves rustled in the gust, shaking free their payloads of thin water accumulation but not falling. Water collected in a rain barrel, overflowing and pouring from the cracked wood ringing the uneven top, spilling down onto the soft trail that wound through the temple’s garden.

A lone figure watched the rain, staring out from under a damp grey hood, watching passerby come and go. Even on a day like this, the temple attracted all sorts. Worshipers, pilgrims, nomads. Priests and clerics. Even the odd merchant, hoping to hawk wares to the passing folk. Gloved hands reached up and adjusted the hood of the cloak as the figure watched the wooden doors of the temple. They swung open and shut with irregularity, reflecting entrances and exits, passing through the threshold of holy Naga’s ground.

Inside the temple, cross-legged and nestled on a large pillow at the front of the sanctuary, sat a woman. Her green hair tumbled in cascades down her shoulders, long strands draping loosely over the form of two wings extending out from her back. The wings were feathered, shimmering waves of silver and gold, rippling lightly with each twitch, with each gentle motion as the woman spoke. A gold tiara rested on her brow, inset with a red stone that matched in shade the rest of her attire.

She spoke softly to each parishioner that approached, offering wisdom, prayers of comfort, or whatever words were appropriate. She would most often end each meeting with a prayer regardless, clasping her hands tight with each visitor, whispering the words of Naga’s blessing.

“Thank you, Lady Tiki,” might come the response. Or perhaps, “Naga bless you, Lady Tiki.”

Each pilgrim there for an express purpose, there to visit the Voice of Naga. To seek aid, comfort, advice. Some tangible response, some blessing able to be acted upon. As she spoke, her wings twitched ever so slightly, bending in curiosity towards her visitors.

She pulled back her hands from a man’s, the lithe, soft skin of her fingers almost total contrast with the rough, calloused skin of his. He had asked for a blessing for a bountiful harvest. His farm had been struggling for some time, and as winter fast approached, he turned to the divine.

“Go,” Tiki said with finality to their talk. “Go in peace, and may the blessings of Naga provide for you and your family.”

“Thank you, Lady Tiki,” he said, his voice shaky. Seeing the Voice herself oft instilled many with fear. The awesome spectacle of her wings curled around her in the sanctuary, confirmation of faith made manifest. He bowed and slowly shuffled back down the stairs to the nave, passing by the queue of pilgrims eager to speak with their priestess.

Another figure walked up the stairs slowly, with a nearly imperceptible limp. Tiki noted the bare feet gracing the worn red carpet, glimpses of flesh shown beneath the pilgrim’s damp grey cloak.

“Hello,” Tiki said softly. Something felt off, some unnamed sense of nervousness. A feeling she had not felt for many years. A presence, scarcely noticeable, and yet like the recurrence of a dream. “You are no ordinary pilgrim, yes? Pray tell, traveler. What is your name?”

Two hands reached up, slender, gloved fingers grasping the edges of the hood as the figure pulled down her hood. It was a girl. Young, despite her weary red eyes. A jagged white scar traced across her face, tracking from one cheek to the other, chipping into the nose. Silvery hair fell in short, messy tresses to the girl’s shoulders, tucked back by a black headband. The hair did little to hide her pointed ears, and as she opened her mouth Tiki could see it was crammed tight with sharp white fangs. Her hands seemed to shake as they returned to her sides. “M-my name is Corrin. Are you Lady Tiki?”

Tiki nodded, intrigued but unwilling to venture a guess. It was not often a visitor did not know her at least in name.

“Selena said I’d find you here. Um, I mean…Severa.”

Tiki lifted her head in surprise. Her wings folding back slightly, almost bristling. “Severa, you said?”

Corrin nodded. “Yes. Inigo and Owain as well.”

Tiki smiled broadly, a grin creeping across her face. “I see. Are they well?”

Corrin pursed her lips uncertainly. “Well…” She seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Yes, as well as can be expected, I would say.”

Tiki nodded. Sensing Corrin’s discomfort, she let her smile drift to a neutral expression. Her wings ruffled ever so slightly, almost indicative of a shiver. “I must say I did not expect to hear their names, not for some time yet. What are you doing here?”

Corrin lip quivered as she tried to compose herself. Her hands were shaking underneath her cloak. “I-“ she started, her voice cracking slightly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t know where else to turn. I…” Tiki reached out a gentle hand and touched her cheek, her finger wiping away a tear that was making its way down her scarred cheek.

“Peace, child,” she said. “There is nothing to fear here.”

Corrin nodded and wiped her nose with her glove. “I’m sorry, it’s…it’s a long story. I shouldn’t keep you.” As she turned to go, Tiki reached out and grasped her shoulder

“Wait-“

Corrin turned back to her and Tiki could see her eyes, dark reptilian slits cut into a deep, sparkling red. Tiki let out a breath, suddenly placing the feeling she had not been able to. The sensation of familiarity. She had felt it briefly, when meeting Nowi. And again, with this girl.

“Please,” Tiki said softly. “Stay. My quarters are behind the sanctuary. We may speak freely there.”

 

-

 

Corrin wrapped her hands around a steaming ceramic mug, letting the warmth radiate into her fingers and up her arms. Despite herself, she shivered, the wetness of her cloak soaking into her very bones. Tiki sat at the table across from her, pouring a second mug of hot tea.

Corrin brought the mug to her lips and sipped cautiously. It was warm and sweet, an almost startling taste after the bitterness of Hoshidan tea. She took another sip and set her mug down, feeling somewhat better. It was the first thing she had to eat or drink since her arrival in Valm several days ago. She had gone hunting once but caught nothing and was too afraid to risk transforming a second time.

She let out a sigh and wiped a stray tear that had been worming itself out of her eye. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t…”

“Why did you come to me?” Tiki asked calmly. Something about her voice soothed Corrin. Her accent, her mannerisms, the calming cadence of her speech. It made Corrin feel comfortable. It was that same ethereal quality that Azura had always had. A soft voice able to still her restless heart.

 _Azura_.

Corrin felt her heart sink. She had hoped this pilgrimage would help her forget. Help her heal. Help her make sense of it all. But each day that passed without her felt like wading through barbs. She choked back tears.

“It’s okay,” Tiki said, reaching a hand across the table and touching Corrin’s. “Take your time.”

“I…I don’t know what else to do,” Corrin said in broken gasps. “It all seemed so simple, but…b-but now she’s gone, and I’m alone, and all I can do is look back on all the mistakes I made. And I keep thinking…” she withdrew her hand and clenched it into a fist. “If I had chosen differently, maybe they would still be here. Azura, Takumi, Ryoma…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I still hear them. Even with my waking ears, I can hear them.”

 _Traitor. Liar. I will kill you_. _You deserve nothing but the cold embrace of death_.

Corrin clamped her arms over her head. “And now my body’s changing, and I don’t know what to do. I can’t…I don’t belong anywhere, and I ripped my family apart, and I-“ she broke down into heaving sobs.

Tiki slowly pushed her chair out and walked around the table to Corrin’s side. She gently rested her hands on Corrin’s shoulders and used one to gently stroke her hair as she sobbed.

Admittedly, she knew nothing of what Corrin was talking about. She did not know who those people were, nor what had happened. But Corrin’s weary heart was familiar. That, at least, she understood.

Corrin shifted in her chair and buried her face in Tiki’s stomach, wrapping her arms around her. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I…I didn’t…” _I didn’t mean for them to die._ She gasped out another ragged breath. 

Tiki lightly ran her fingers through her hair. It felt like a distant dream to her, but she remembered, too. The pain of loss, the heartache of bearing witness to the suffering of those around her. A pain she would endure, time and time again, for all her life unless she gave up all connections to the humans she loved so. It was a pain all manaketes had to endure. A fact of life that must be accepted.

Tiki brushed her cheek with a thumb. “Corrin, do you know what you are?”

Corrin sniffed and shook her head.

Tiki continued caressing her. “You’re a manakete. Just like me.”

Corrin nodded. “I…I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s just what you are. You have a dragonstone, yes?”

Corrin withdrew from the embrace and reached into the collar of her grey cloak, withdrawing an ornate blue stone on a silver chain. She reached behind her neck and unclasped the necklace before handing Tiki the stone.

Tiki pored over it, humming lightly. She traced its edge with a lithe finger. “Who gave you this stone?” she asked.

“A-a-a girl named Azura,” Corrin wiped her nose again. “She got it from her mother.”

“Was Azura a manakete as well? Could she transform into a dragon?”

Corrin shook her head. “N-no, she was just human, I think.”

“Do you know where her mother got it?”

“No.”

“Where are they now?”

“T-they’re both dead,” Corrin said, feeling the words sink daggers into her chest.

Tiki nodded and turned the stone over in her hands. “It is a remarkable little piece of magic. I have never seen one quite like it. Does it wear down as you use it?”

Corrin shook her head and reached cautiously for her tea. “N-no. It’s been just like that since I got it.” She took a sip, then turned the sip into a chug and she downed half the mug in a single gulp.

Tiki returned the stone to its owner. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to see you transform.”

Corrin looked around the small, cramped kitchen. “H-here?”

Tiki laughed softly. “No, not here. My bedroom should be sufficient space. I cannot speak for all manaketes, but I find it comfortable to stretch my wings now and again, so to speak.”

Tiki took her hand and led her through the small collection of rooms that served as her quarters. Along with the kitchen there was a small study crammed wall-to-wall with bookshelves and finally the bedroom. As well as an ordinary queen-sized bed there was, in one corner, a large pile of soft, downy pillows. More than enough space for a dragon to curl up. Corrin stared, surprised at the amount of allotted space. When Tiki transformed, how big did she get?

“Pardon the mess,” Tiki said. “I’ve been too tired to do a proper job cleaning of late.” She turned to Corrin. “Now…”

Corrin reached up to the collar of her cloak and undid the fastens keeping it in place. She let it fall to the floor in a pile of wet, ragged grey cloth around her feet.

Tiki stared at the girl underneath, surprised.

Corrin was of medium height and slender build, clad head-to-toe in what appeared to be skin-tight black and silver scaled armor.  Her thin frame certainly didn’t match the bulkier image the cloak had portrayed, and in contrast the girl seemed almost too slight. And of course, there was the matter of the wings.

From her back extended two silvery wings, all thick corded sinew and between that webs of shimmering, translucent skin. She seemed nervous, almost as if she felt naked. She wrapped her bony arms around her stomach tightly and hugged herself.

“Beautiful,” Tiki breathed, reaching out to caress Corrin’s body. She paused. “May I touch your wings?”

Corrin nodded, feeling her cheeks burning. It was bad enough being as gangly and thin as she was, and her wings were such pitiful little things. Compared to the majestic splendor of Tiki, she felt like a wet rag alongside a wedding gown.

Tiki’s touch made her twitch and her wings flapped weakly.

In contrast to Leo’s cold, academic interest or Elise’s gawking, Tiki felt almost…respectful? Corrin had been treated differently since they had started growing. Perhaps it was the constant reminder of her inhumanity. Xander insisted on keeping the change a secret, unwilling to scare people unaccustomed to such a sight. Leo insisted on studying her and did so with his characteristic insensitive intensity.

But with Tiki, there was none of that. Corrin’s shyness dissolved as she caressed her wings, dancing her fingers over the sinew and flesh with awe. Not the shocked gaping of the Nohrian soldiers, but a more comforting awe, the interest of someone genuinely enthralled. Familiarity and curiosity mingling.

Tiki pulled away at last. “May I see you transform?”

Corrin did as asked, clutching her stone tightly and focusing her power into it. She felt the transformation ripple through her body, the energy course through her muscles, stretching flesh and bending bone. She had grown familiar with the feeling over the war. What had once been intensely discomforting, almost painful, was now routine. She doubled over, falling from feet and landing on claws. She shook, stretching out her wings and rolling her head around to adjust to the new proportions.

She had become accustomed to the feeling, but it was still often a little jarring. She felt distant, as if she was inside herself. As if she were simply a passenger, watching a body that was not her own. It made fighting easier, but in moments like this, she suddenly felt cold and disconnected. She could feel Tiki’s touch, but it was numbed. Her voice, too, sounded distant, like it was sounding through a tunnel.

“I’ve never seen a manakete like you before,” she said, running a hand along Corrin’s neck. “Have you fought in this form?”

Corrin rolled her head to the side and dipped into Tiki’s petting. “Yeah,” she said, her voice echoing.

Tiki knelt beside her and examined her back leg. “What happened here?” she asked, motioning towards a notch of warped flesh. Corrin winced internally.

“A soldier with a wyrmslayer nicked me. It hasn’t healed properly ever since.”

“And it likely never will,” Tiki said, getting to her feet. “Wounds inflicted with such blades run deep and the scars seldom fade.”

Corrin folded her legs and curled up on the floor, tucking her wings around herself.

“May I ask how old you are?” Tiki asked, continuing her gentle poring over of Corrin’s new form. She examined the base of the wings, where they met back, then Corrin’s ridged spine. “Judging from your size I would assume three or four hundred years old, perhaps?”

Corrin shook her head, somewhat embarrassed. “N-no,” she said uncertainly.

“Older? I suppose five hundred might be-“

“Twenty,” Corrin cut her off.

Tiki raised her eyebrows, taken aback. A thoughtful pause ensued before she spoke again. “Does counting work differently where you’re from? Do you mean to say two hundred?”

Corrin tucked her head into the crook of her neck, almost trying to curl into a ball. “No,” she said. “Twenty. You know…the number after nineteen.”

Tiki frowned. “That’s not possible. Your dragon form may be miniscule, but your human form is past adolescence. You cannot possibly be less than two hundred years old.”

 “I’m…I’m not a dragon…” Corrin mumbled, the filter of her voice making her almost inaudible.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m not a dragon!” came the dragon’s indignant voice. “I…well…not really, I mean. My mother was a human.”

Corrin could hear the jeers echoing in her head. _Half-breed. Mongrel. Mutt._

Tiki knelt next to her and gently stroked her head. “That’s odd…” she trailed off, lost in thought yet again.

“Is it?” Corrin asked. “Are your bodies really so different from those of ordinary humans?”

“No, I suppose not,” Tiki said. It was true that Corrin was not the first half-breed she had met, but they were so few and far between that it still came as a surprise. She stood up. “You may change back, if you would like. Whichever form you prefer is fine.”

Corrin returned to her normal shape, still curled on the floor with her wings hung limply around her.

“Are you feeling alright?” Tiki asked.

Corrin shook her head silently. She pushed herself up to a sitting position.

“Are you ill?”

Corrin blinked slowly, adjusting to the shift back to human eyes. “I don’t know,” she said. “I feel sore and tired, and I haven’t been sleeping. This is all so confusing still.”

Tiki helped her to her feet. “Perhaps some dinner would serve you well. Then you can tell me your story.”

 

-

 

Throughout the remainder of the evening, Tiki’s characteristic politeness remained. She spoke softly and calmly, never pushing the subject when Corrin expressed discomfort. She listened intently as Corrin vented her frustrations, spilling her troubled heart out into the open for the first time in perhaps her entire life.

Everything she could remember.

Her troubled upbringing in the isolated Nohrian fortress, enduring abuse at the hands of her keepers. Her constant attempts to placate her father’s seemingly boundless cruelty. Her flight to Hoshido, the death of her mother. The first transformation into a dragon.

And from there, the war. The return to Nohr, the ceaseless campaign of slaughter and bloodshed. The killing, always the killing. Her fears of turning feral, of sinking into herself and never changing back, destined to live as a beast for the remainder of her days. The long journey back to what was once her home.

Takumi. Hinoka. Sakura. Ryoma. The family she tore apart, the deaths she caused. The violence enacted in her name, even against her wishes. She managed to make it through most of the story without crying until she got to its final, bitter conclusion.

Ryoma’s sacrifice, Takumi’s rage. Killing her own father, the only father she had ever known. The weight of her sword as it pierced his body. And then Takumi, her own brother, dead at her hands. Finally, at long last, even after all the pain and misery, she spoke of Azura. She broke down sobbing as she spoke.

And all the while, Tiki listened. Punctuated each beat of the story with the appropriate emotion, expressing sympathy, asking questions but never prying. And at last Corrin reached the end.

The days of aimless wandering, weeks with minimal sleep and minimal food. Dreams of fleeing, running into the wilderness to vanish without a trace, abandoning the world she worked so hard to save, the world that took everything from her. The anger and confusion as her body changed. How Selena had come to her first, sensing her distress, and pointed her in the direction of the only dragon any of them knew. Perhaps the only one who could make any sense of it all.

Corrin wiped her eyes and looked up. “I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely. “I…I’m sorry. I don’t even know you. I can’t-“

Tiki grasped her hand and pulled her into a firm embrace. Corrin gasped, startled at the response. Tiki cradled her, gently stroking her hair and speaking softly.

“Do not apologize, child. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Corrin was quiet, allowing herself to be lost in the embrace. She closed her eyes, the motion squeezing tears down her cheeks. “I…I screwed it all up. Everything I did was wrong.”

Tiki took her hand and led her to the pile of pillows tucked into the corner of her room. She sat down and gestured for Corrin to sit. Confused and still dripping from most of her face, Corrin sat.

“Have you heard the name Marth, per chance?” Tiki asked, positioning herself cross-legged behind Corrin. She grasped her shoulders and pulled her back before gently massaging her.

“N-no,” Corrin said.

“He was a prince, long ago. He had a story not unlike yours.” She worked her fingers down Corrin’s rough, ridged spine, her fingers delicately kneading the knotted muscle beneath her clothes. Corrin shivered.

“His, too, was a tale of woe and heartbreak. Of sorrow and suffering beyond measure.” She reached the bases of Corrin’s wings and began pressing hard into the flesh. Corrin winced and let out a soft gasp.

“I apologize,” Tiki said. “Too hard?”

Corrin shook her head. “Just…a weird feeling.”

Tiki nodded and continued rubbing her. “If your wings are just growing, the muscles underneath are likely sore and tender. Sometimes it helps to work out the stiffness. As I was saying, Marth was not unlike you. He waged not just one, but two wars. Wars in which he had to fight friend and foe alike. Though his cause was just, he had to make difficult decisions, and not all were the right ones.”

“But none of my decisions were right,” Corrin protested. “I…ah!” she winced again as Tiki hit a nerve. “I failed everyone. My family, my friends. Everyone who died, died because of me.”

“That is what Marth said too. He refused to accept even a single death, and thus the wars placed a heavy burden on him. Each death he treated as the unavoidable consequence of his own failure.”

“W-what happened to him?”

“He died as well,” Tiki said simply. “Quietly, peacefully in his bed, not long before his wife.”

Corrin frowned. “So?”

“He died two thousand years ago. As did everyone else. His friends, his enemies. Everything, lost to the tides of time.”

Corrin let out huff. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” Tiki admitted. “It’s supposed to make you understand the nature of your path.” Her voice suddenly turned serious. “You are not human, Corrin. Your life will never be comparable to theirs. You are young, but even if your life is cut short by your human blood, you will still far outlive everyone you cherish. Everyone you love, everyone you hate. The world will change shape beneath your feet. Oceans will rise and fall, mountains will crumble to valleys. Deserts sands will shift across the land. Time does not stop, even for dragons.”

Corrin felt herself growing irritated. Her wings flapped angrily as she stood up. “I don’t want that!”

“It matters not what you want,” Tiki said, still sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring up at the angry young girl before her. “It is the way of things.”

“I…” Corrin fumed, unable to form sentences. She thought of all of her friends, her family. Leo, Camilla, Xander, Elise. Hinoka, sitting on her throne. Little Sakura. Clumsy Felicia, stern Jakob. Even more casual acquaintances like Selena and Laslow, or new friends like Keaton. She felt tears flooding into her eyes again. All of them would die one day, either by the sword or by the hands of the clock.

She began quivering, her vision blurring. “No,” she blubbered helplessly. “No, I…they can’t…they…”

Tiki gently took her hand and pulled her back into an embrace. Corrin pushed back.

“What did I even fight for?!” she shouted, tears streaming down her face. “What was the point of _any_ of it?” Her breath caught and she staggered forward, limping before collapsing into Tiki’s arms.

“I don’t want them to die,” Corrin pleaded as if Tiki had any power to stop it. Her voice dissolved into whimpers.

Tiki stared past her, her eyes drifting in the dead air in the bedroom as if to pierce the veil of time. She remembered him so clearly now, though oftentimes it was a blur. His smile. His calm voice. His hand, strong and firm. The comfort of his presence. It felt so distant, yet concrete. Like a mountain on the horizon, ever-present but never closer.

She smiled warmly. “Love is a painful thing, Corrin. It is the most powerful force in the world, and yet it is also a curse. Until the day you and I die, we are cursed to love, and so we are cursed to grieve.”

“I hate it,” Corrin murmured.

Tiki shook her head. “As do I, on some days. When the memories return, when a scent or a sound takes me back through the years. When I see a face I had thought long gone. It is painful, true.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around Corrin. “But I would not give up love for anything in the entire world. I would suffer loss again and again and again, for time immaterial, rather than let go of love.”

 

-

 

Corrin whimpered and rolled over, almost crushing one wing as she did. Heedless of the motion, she mumbled in her sleep. Her murmured speech became more frantic, panic slipping into her breath. She rolled again, this time with more vigor. “Mmn…” she let slip a sound of protest. “N-no, I…no…” her wings flapped feebly.

Then finally she began thrashing, her voice rising to a crescendo of whimpered pleas. Her eyes flashed open and she scrambled backward, almost falling off the bed. “Agh!” she cried out, sweat beading on her forehead. “Wh-what?” she looked around frantically, trying to adjust to the dark. “Where am I?”

 “Peace, child,” Tiki’s voice emanated softly. “You are safe. You are in my bedroom, resting.”

Corrin peered around the darkened chamber looking for the source of the voice. She almost fainted when she saw it.

Curled in the corner was a massive beast, a hulking draconic form coated with a thick layer of gold and silver feathers that twinkled in the dim moonlight.

“T-Tiki?” Corrin asked cautiously.

“Yes, child. It is I.” the dragon leaned forward, her massive head peering at Corrin, who suddenly felt incredibly small.

“Y-you’re…” Corrin wiped her brow, trying to figure out if she was still dreaming or not.

The dragon blinked and when she did, her eyes glinted like emeralds. “Are you surprised?”

“You’re…big…” Corrin mumbled, unable to form a sentence with her groggy brain. “Feathers.”

Tiki snorted and let out a chuckle. “Yes, I did say that your dragon form was quite small, didn’t I?”

“B…but…” Corrin slid off the side of the bed and let her wings stretch. “You…” She stumbled lightly as she walked, limping as she approached Tiki. She reached out a single trembling hand to touch her snout. Tiki leaned into the touch, nuzzling Corrin’s hand. She felt incredibly soft, the sparkling feathers almost like velvet. Corrin resisted the urge to bury her face against Tiki’s.

“You may sleep with me, if you would prefer. I know the bed can be awfully lonely.”

Corrin withdrew her hand, blushing. “I-I…I’m not a child. I don’t need to-“ Tiki snorted, the puff of hot air blasting Corrin’s hair back.

“You are a child. Do not think I am deaf to your distress. Now come, rest. I have been told nesting in my  feathers is quite soothing.”

Corrin grasped her necklace and transformed before curling up against Tiki’s body, letting the large, feathered wing drape over her like a soft, downy blanket. Tiki was nearly double her size, but Corrin agreed – it was soothing. The comfort of another presence, the warmth emanating from within her, the slow rise and fall of her body as she breathed. Her voice, the Voice of Naga, comforting her troubled heart.

“Who said it’s soothing?” Corrin asked curiously, adjusting her long, slender neck to tuck herself into a tight ball. She wrapped her tail in close.

“My wife,” Tiki said matter-of-factly, a response that almost startled the grogginess from Corrin.

“W-what?” she lifted her head. “Your _wife_?”

“I told you,” Tiki said, reaching her snout down to nuzzle Corrin. “I would not give up love for anything in the world.”


End file.
